


Turn

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Car Sex, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I hope, M/M, Mizutani No, Road Trips, Slow Burn, if something can count as slow burn when it's gonna clock in under 15k, the comfort part is...dubious...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mizutani is in love. Like totally 100% head-over-heels in love. And what greater romantic gesture than traveling halfway across the country to surprise her with a first visit?</p>
<p>He just has to get there.</p>
<p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started as a fill for the oofurishipweeks rarepair prompt "trip" WAAAAAAY back in the summer BUT HERE IT IS NOW, finished-esque.
> 
> I'm trying to clear some of my shorter WIPs so I can focus on the more involved fics I'm working on. So far it's...go...ing... And I definitely have NOT started anything new...nope...

Abe almost doesn’t answer the phone when he sees who’s calling.

“Hi.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you calling me, Mizutani?”

A short silence on the other end of the line, then, “You could maybe sound a _little_ happier to hear from me…”

“Tough luck.” Abe leans back in his desk chair, stretching. “I’m not unhappy to hear from you. Just wondering what you want.”

“I don’t _want_ anything!” Abe stares upside-down at the wall, mouth pulling into a wide, flat line, waiting. “Okay, I mean, I _do_ , but…I also just kinda wanted to say hi…”

“Well, you’ve accomplished that. So again, what do you want?”

“I see you’re a jerkface, as always.”

“Missed you too.”

A sulky pause on the other end. Then, abruptly full of bubbling enthusiasm, Mizutani starts, “So anyway…there’s this girl…”

Abe groans, but it doesn’t stop Mizutani from launching in, telling him WAY more than he ever needed to know about Sachi-chan from Fukuoka. That they had met through an online game and been dating for like almost a YEAR well sort of and Mizutani was In Love and she was Amazing like pretty much the Best Girl Ever and Abe kind of tunes out, spinning lazily in his chair as he listens to Mizutani’s chipper patter.

Eventually, Mizutani gets around to his point. “So…for the holiday, y’know, I wanna go down and surprise her! I mean, we’ve done video and stuff,” Abe _really_ hopes he doesn’t elaborate on that, “but we’ve never actually _met_. In _person_. I want to be able to smooch her and hold her in my arms and gaze into her eyes and—”

“ _Mizutani_.”

“So I just thought…go down there and see her and it’d be super romantic…”

“Okay, so do that. What do you need from me?”

“Uh…” Mizutani gives a self-conscious laugh. “You have a car…?”

Eyes narrowing, Abe shoots to his feet. “I am _not_ driving you down to—”

“No! That’s not… I just meant… I was hoping I could get a lift to the station…?”

“Mm.” Abe wanders over to the balcony, leaning against the doorframe, catching the barest hint of a breeze.

“Like, I’m gonna be carrying a lot of stuff, and my parent’s car broke down, and—”

“Sure.”

“Oh…. Gosh, THANKS!!” He can easily imagine the giant grateful grin on Mizutani’s face. “You’re a total _lifesaver_ and I didn’t think you’d even—”

“Calm down, it’s not a big deal.” Abe’s lips quirk up, and he pushes a little more warmth into his tone. “It’ll be nice to catch up.” And it’s genuine warmth. They’d been in different classes for second year, but then together again in third, and all the time spent together on the field, even after Mizutani lost his position to a more promising first year (he eventually managed to become a fairly dependable pinch-hitter, though), all of it made it so he was a comforting familiar presence, a lightness that Abe misses a little now that it’s gone from his daily life.

Not that he particularly feels like saying any such thing. Eventually, he curtly tells Mizutani he has other things to do than to hear about the particular angle of Sachi-chan’s eyebrows ( _perfect_ , of course), they can talk on the car ride and when does he want to be picked up and could he _please_ stop saying thank you.

* * *

 

Abe arrives early, parking on the street and texting up that he’s here. Then waits.

And waits.

He texts again, then grumbles and shoves his phone in his pocket, stalking up to the modest apartment building.

Mizutani answers the buzzer quickly enough, at least. “Abe! Uh…I’m sort of…um…help??”

He sighs and says, “Buzz me in.”

Mizutani’s apartment looks…exactly like it had the one other time he’d been here: messy (but not inexcusably), with several posters, a couple figures, photos of family and friends up here and there, and a large television. His roommate leans in the doorway of one of the bedrooms, watching Mizutani dash back and worth with a bemused expression. He meets Abe’s eye with a raised eyebrow; Abe returns it with a slow and exasperated blink.

What looks like half of Mizutani’s wardrobe is spread on the couch, a duffle bag on the floor. There is a (quite frankly ridiculous) bouquet on the kitchen table next to a teddybear holding a large plush red heart with “ _Loveliest day are together_ ” written on it in English (debatably).

“You’re supposed to be at the station in,” Abe glances at his phone, “twenty minutes. What the hell are you _doing?_ ”

“I know! I…” Mizutani flails back out of his bedroom, half-in a button-up tee. The buttons are mismatched. “Does this look okay?”

“You look like an idiot who can’t dress himself.”

“Abeeeeeeee, that’s _mean!_ ”

He shrugs, unphased; Mizutani pouts at him before dashing into the bathroom to clatter around in there.

Abe follows him slowly, watching him rummage around in a drawer. He’s grown his hair out, a few strands come loose from the messy knot at his nape to frame his face. He’s put on a few inches since school but is still just as skinny as ever, obvious with his shirt still hanging open; Abe has the stray thought he could probably lift him up no problem, but decides to ignore it.

“If you’re really ‘in love’ with each other, it doesn’t matter if you look good, right? Just grab something clean and come _on_.”

Mizutani shoves a toothbrush and a collection of hair products and other toiletries into Abe’s hands, squeezing past him to dash back to the pile of clothing. Some of them are damp and a little slimy. Abe paces back to dump them unceremoniously in the bag, then regrets it a few minutes later when Mizutani just shoves clothes on top of them.

He somehow manages to both be running around like a headless chicken and take what feels like _hours_ before he finally zips the top of the bag shut and turns to Abe with a somewhat shaky thumbs-up.

“Good. Let’s go.” Abe shoulders the bag before Mizutani can say anything ( _has he packed everything he owns in here? Is he planning to_ move in??) which leaves him free to skip over to the table and pick up the flowers and the bear. Abe eyes them for a second. “Those are gonna wilt by the time you get down there.”

Mizutani wilts himself, giving the flowers a betrayed look before resignedly setting them back on the table. “Guess so…”

“Stop sulking. I’m pretty sure they have flowers in Fukuoka, too. Let’s get going.”

* * *

 

Through some small mercy, Abe doesn’t _once_ point out that he’s probably going to miss the train at this point, just drives them through the light mid-morning traffic as quickly as is safe. He listens patiently to Mizutani—he knows he’s babbling, but he’s nervous and excited and also gosh he forgot how _cool_ Abe always looks, relaxed with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow resting on the door as they wait at a stoplight.

He catches Mizutani’s eye, turning with a loose, teasing grin. “What, you out of stuff to tell me already?”

“No…” _Crap, how long did I space out looking at him??_ He looks down at the bear in his lap, fussing with the lace edging on the heart. _I hope she’ll like it. Girls like stuff like this, right?_ “Abe, would _you_ like getting something like this?”

He holds it out; Abe swats it away with an elbow as he accelerates through the intersection. “No. Useless garbage that takes up space.”

“Well, would you ever _give_ something like this, then?”

“No. Use. Less. Gar. Bage.”

Mizutani pulls a glum face, straightening the bear’s bowtie. “ _I_ think it’s nice.”

He sees Abe glance at him out of the corner of his eye; his tone is more conciliatory when he responds. “I suppose if I knew it was something my partner liked, then I might. You know her better than I do, so if you think it’s good, I’m sure she’ll like it.”

It takes him until he’s thanking Abe as he fetches his bag out of the back seat before he fully registers that Abe didn’t say ‘girlfriend’. He stumbles a little on his goodbye and then turns, sprinting into the station and waving with the teddybear.

_There’s still a chance!! Maybe it’s late!!_

He’s so focused on getting there that it takes him until he skids to a stop amongst the press of travelers that he’s gone to the wrong platform entirely. Luckily, just then there’s an announcement that the train he needs is leaving from platform 3-A South.

Immediately.

Mizutani scrambles back up an escalator and through an arcade, nearly taking out a family of tourists, all the while dreading the sound of the pleasant robotic announcement.

Which he doesn’t hear. Because the train has already left long before he reaches the platform.

Mizutani flops down on the concrete, drawing perplexed looks from the scattered people still milling around. _There’s…there’s another one soon, right? Will my ticket still be good? I don’t even know…_

_I’ve been incredibly stupid, haven’t I?_

He’s not sure how long he sits there. Eventually, he sways to his feet, adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder and miserably zipping the bear into a pocket before heading back into the station.

It’s fortunate he’s scanning around for an information desk because it means he immediately catches sight of Abe standing next to a vending machine with two iced coffee drinks in his hands.

Abe waves with one of them, and Mizutani jogs over. “Had a feeling you’d miss it. I asked at the ticket desk; they say normally you could just get on a later train, but because it’s a peak travel season, they’re not allowing it.”

Mizutani’s simultaneously crestfallen and glad at least that Abe had found it out for him. He takes the can when Abe shoves it at him, staring down at its cheery packaging miserably.

“You just gonna stand there? Let’s get moving.”

“Eh?” He looks up; Abe’s already a few paces away. “Where…?”

“I’m driving you.”

“Home??”

Abe turns with an exasperated expression. “No. I’m driving you down there.”

Mizutani’s stuck rooted to the ground for a beat or two longer. Then with a whoop, he dashes after Abe, grabbing his arm and jumping. Abe looks thoroughly irritated, his cheeks turning a little pink; he shakes Mizutani off, mussing his hair and then hurrying outside.

He manages to contain himself until they’re buckling themselves back into the car. “I can’t believe you’d do something like this!”

“Wow, _thanks_.”

Mizutani sticks his tongue out at Abe. “Not like that! Just…thanks, man.” He watches him a little longer. “But…why?”

Abe keeps his eyes on the road as he pulls out into traffic. “This way, I’m safe from any guerilla family visits.” He wrinkles his nose. “Mom’s been…annoying, lately. And,” he glances over with a toothy grin, “you’re definitely shelling out for gas money.”

“Wow, what a good person,” Mizutani deadpans.

“Besides, I like driving. It’ll be nice to get out of the city.”

Mizutani nods slowly, cracking open his can of coffee. If it sounds a little like Abe’s trying to justify his own decision, well, he’s not going to argue with him about it.

It’s not like it doesn’t occur to Mizutani to ask, but he waits until it’s absolutely clear they’re leaving the city before he actually says something.

“Uh…Abe? You…don’t wanna grab anything?”

“When I said mom’s been annoying lately, I meant “she threatened to drop by this afternoon with people and babies”.”

Mizutani frowns. “ _Babies_ are people…”

Abe ignores him. “I need to buy a new toothbrush anyway, and _you_ appear to have packed everything you own in there, so I figure I can just borrow anything else. If you have anything that fits.” He shrugs. “Not like _I_ need to look good for anyone.”

“I…guess not…” Mizutani suddenly can’t help thinking about how probably _all_ of his shirts would be too small. How they’d stretch across Abe’s chest and on his arms, how maybe they’d ride up a little… _Oh my god, what am I THINKING?_ He claps his hands to his cheeks, looking down at his knees. _Would any of my pants even FIT over that a—_

“Oh!” He reaches for a tidily-wound cord. “This a jack for an mp3 player?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome!” Mizutani unclips his seatbelt, twisting to grope around in the back seat for one of the side-pockets on his bag.

“ _Hey_ — Don’t— We’re on the fucking _highway,_ you lunatic!” Abe swats at him.

“Got it! Calm down, you crotchety old man.” Mizutani flops back into the seat, though he’s careful to put his seatbelt back on before deploying his prize. _It’s a lot easier to find you unattractive the second you open your mouth._ He decides to feel smug about his unvoiced insult and ignore the fact that he’s just admitted to himself that Abe’s attractive. _Other cute boys and girls don’t matter, anyway! I’m with Sachiko! I don’t need anything more when I have true love!_

Smiling to himself, he plugs the jack into his iPod, scrolling through his many playlists. Just the same, when he gets to the “SACHI-CHAN!!<3<3” one, he hesitates.

_Abe’s gonna make fun of me._

_Let’s be realistic, he’s gonna make fun of me no matter what. Or at least sit there crabbily judging me._

Smile turning mischievous, Mizutani taps the playlist.

Quite frankly, he’s impressed, because it takes almost twenty minutes before Abe hunches forwards over the wheel and grumbles, “Is _everything_ on this a cheesy love song?”

Mizutani beams at him. “Nope! Some of them are just songs that remind me of her.”

Abe makes a disgusted noise, and then grates out something under his breath that Mizutani is _pretty_ sure is something to the effect of, “Fucking _straight people_.” He sort of wants to protest that he’s _not_ , but he’s not entirely sure he’s heard right.

Mizutani flushes pink, side-eyeing Abe again. “What do _you_ wanna listen to, then?”

Abe shrugs. “I honestly don’t care. Just listen to whatever makes you happy.” His eyes flick over to Mizutani, making his cheeks bloom hotter. “Just turn it down a little, okay?”

“Okay, _dad_.” Abe doesn’t react, except for a slight twitch in of his brows. Mizutani turns the volume down, then gazes out the window dreamily.

Then grabs at Abe, making him yell a protest. “There’s a sign for berries for sale! Right from a farm! C’mon, can we—”

“This is _not_ a scenic drive. I’m taking you down there and booting you out, that’s _it_. We are _not_ stopping for fruit we could buy in a store.”

“It’s _not_ the same.” Mizutani glares over at him, then tries, hopefully, “It’s probably cheaper…?”

“We’re not so far out yet that I won’t turn around and take you back home.”

Mizutani sticks out his tongue. “See if I ask _you_ for help again!”

Abe raises his eyebrows. “Suits me just fine.”

* * *

 

Mizutani’s exhausted that playlist and several others, dinner a crumpled memory in the back seat, by the time Abe shoves a phone in his hands and orders him to find them cheap lodgings.

The motel they pull into is nondescript and not cheap enough that Abe doesn’t grouse a little about paying his half. Mizutani lugs his bag to the room while Abe tracks down a vending machine with necessities. He heads straight for the shower when he returns, leaving Mizutani to fiddle around with his phone on one bed. And definitely _not_ watching the bathroom door like a hawk or wondering what state of undress Abe might be in when he comes out.

As it turns out, Mizutani’s visions of rippling muscles and steamy skin give way to the disappointing reality of Abe standing in the bathroom doorway scowling at him in his t-shirt from earlier and the saddest pair of dingy blue boxers Mizutani thinks he has _ever_ seen. He stares back at Abe (who probably thinks he’s making a nice normal face), feeling heat slowly creep in from the edges of his cheeks.

Abruptly, Abe glances around, stepping towards Mizutani’s bag on the cheap desk. “Can I borrow something now? Don’t wanna sleep in dirty clothes.”

“Ah… Lemme…” He hesitates a moment longer and then scrambles out of bed. While he rummages through the bag, Abe hovers over him expectantly, heat radiating off him. Now that he’s up close, Mizutani can see that Abe’s shirt sticks to his skin, dark patches where the fabric lays against his chest or catches under a shoulder blade. They’re close enough in height that Mizutani’s not sure who’s the taller, but Abe definitely outweighs him. Mizutani finally finds an appropriate shirt, and if he fumbles a little yanking it out, it’s only to be expected with Abe breathing down his neck like that.

Abe shakes it out, giving it an exceptionally suspicious squint, and then drops it, hauling his shirt over his head without stepping away and nearly elbowing Mizutani in the face. Mizutani stares fixedly at the bag, absolutely _not_ admiring Abe’s arms or shoulders— _did he have delts like that when we were kids? I can’t remember if he still plays…_ Robotically, he digs out a pair of underwear, holding them out without turning his head. Abe takes them, slipping out of his own and Mizutani is _absolutely not_ looking, not at the way his shirt clings to the small of Abe’s back, not at the way his muscles move as he bends, not thinking about how squeezable his ass looks, _all_ of him looks, solid and broad and squishy enough to be perfect for cuddling and for—

“Hhhhhey! Um. Which of us…” _Oh god this is incredibly stupid_. “Wanna…compare heights??”

He’s fully expecting to get snapped at. But Abe just gives him a sidelong look, shrugs one shoulder, and then breaks into a toothy grin Mizutani can’t help but return. “Sure.” He scoops a stiff folder off the desk, swatting Mizutani’s arm with it as he turns. “Over here,” he says, stepping towards one of the beds.

“Eh? Why?” Mizutani trails after him, his heart thumping.

“So we can see, dumbass.” Abe jerks his head at the mirrored closet door as he steps into the small space. “C’mon.”

Mizutani backs closer, trying to subtly watch to make sure he doesn’t go too far. When he stops, though, Abe backs into him, setting the folder on their heads. Trying not to move his head too much, Mizutani looks over.

The differences between their bodies are obvious, even though Mizutani’s loose button-up and pants make him look a _little_ bulkier. His eyes slip down, follow the long curve of Abe’s quads, back up to where they stretch the legs of his boxer-briefs, higher still to the delicious heavy-looking handful, and—

With a jolt, Mizutani remembers they’re looking in a _mirror_ , Abe can totally see his face, where his eyes are… He checks, his face hot.

But Abe is in profile, his eyes up as he steadies the folder. Mizutani feels a simultaneous rush of relief and a weird coil of disappointment. _What, did I_ want _to get caught?_

Mizutani takes a deep breath, turning his attention firmly to the folder. Which is noticeably higher on his side.

Mizutani crows out, “I’m totally taller than you!”

Abe snorts out a laugh, catching the folder when their jostling knocks it off. “Guess so.” He gives Mizutani a sidelong look in the mirror for long enough to make him nervous. Alarmingly, he drops the folder, whips around, and grabs Mizutani by the waist. “Still bigger’n you, though.”

The world tilts alarmingly and then smacks into his back, soft enough not to wind him but somehow Mizutani can’t catch his breath anyway. Not with Abe standing over him smirking like that.

Breathless or no, Mizutani laughs, covering his mouth and his pink cheeks with a loosely-curled fist. He lifts one foot, planting it squarely on Abe’s chest. It’s silly, pointless, and so obviously a stupid attempt at flirtation that Mizutani wants to pull the blanket over his head. _What am I_ doing?

Fortunately, Abe appears to be invulnerable as always, batting his foot out of the way and walking off. He’s snickering too, though, catching Mizutani’s eye on his way past with a bemused smile.

Mizutani stares at the ceiling for a second longer before flailing his way to his feet and retreating to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he comes back out, Abe has his back to him and is apparently asleep. Mizutani swallows his disappointment as he strips down, flicks off the light, and slips into bed.

_What, did I_ want _him to try and seduce me?_ Mizutani considers the idea, nuzzling the pillow. _Then I could tell Sachiko about it—okay, maybe not_ all _about it—but I could tell her that a friend from highschool was prancing around all sexy, but I still had eyes only for her!_

He can imagine the way she’d laugh so easily. Her smile, the way she’d cover her face. The way she’d flick back her shoulder-length hair, so full of teasing, haughty disbelief at the idea that anyone could steal his affections. The movements of her hands when she blows him a kiss, when she pulls an errant tank top sleeve back into place, when she waves hello or goodbye.

Mizutani falls asleep with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emeto warn; it's literally just a mention BUT HEY. also alcohol warn??

The first thing Abe sees upon waking is Mizutani. On the floor. Wrong way up. One leg still on the bed. Abe leans on one fist, looking down at him with the peculiar mix of fond exasperation Mizutani always seems to inspire. And then grabs one of his pillows, chucking it at Mizutani’s stomach, bared where his shirt has ridden up.

“Hey!” Mizutani attempts to throw it back. He scores a solid hit on the bedside table.

“Let’s go find breakfast. Don’t wanna keep your girlfriend waiting.”

Mizutani grins at him, and Abe can’t help smiling back.

It’s not long before they’re heading out of the town, cheap meat buns in hand and a bag of mini-carrots tucked into a drink holder between them. Mizutani had grumbled something sulky about his berries when Abe grabbed them, to which he’d pointed out his perfectly logical reasoning that berries would be messy and suffer more from the heat, and besides, vegetables were a better choice, carrots were sweet enough. Mizutani squinted at him resentfully all the way through the grocery store checkout.

They settle into a comfortable silence. Abe’s waiting for Mizutani to turn his obnoxious music back on, but he’s oddly quiet, slouched down in his seat and gazing out the window as he meditatively chews his bun.

Abe shifts in his seat, settling into the easy silence. He tugs surreptitiously on them hem of the shirt, somewhat regretting his choice not to stop for a change of clothes. It’s stretchy enough that it feels more like an undershirt, but he still has the feeling that if he moves too suddenly or takes too deep a breath, he’s going to bust a seam somewhere.

There’s the sound of a gratingly cute voice from beside him, followed by aggressively cheery pop music.

Mouth pulled into a wide, flat line, Abe glances over. Mizutani’s smiling down at his phone, apparently taping through a few menus before another voice (more sedately) says, “Let’s go!” There follows the most excruciatingly happy singing he thinks he’s ever had the misfortune to hear, punctuated by rhythmic tambourine clashes.

“I’m going to throw your phone in a lake.”

Mizutani jumps, fumbling his phone, then thwacks Abe in the arm. “Abe! You screwed up my combo!”

“Good.”

“Hey!” Mizutani swats him again; Abe can’t quite tell how serious his outrage is.

“Can’t you play it on silent or something?”

“No, I _can’t_ , you dick! Here, lemme—” He makes as if he’s going to undo his seatbelt again; without looking, Abe reaches over and clenches it, and Mizutani’s hand, in place. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead, neutrally ignoring Mizutani’s peevish squint and his attempts to free his hand. “If you’re not gonna let me take it off, then I need this hand to reach!”

“Or,” Abe starts in a reasonable voice, “you could wait until we’re stopped.”

Mizutani makes a disgusted noise, rummaging around in the back for a moment. He settles back with a pair of earbuds in hand; satisfied, Abe focuses back on the road.

He can’t help glancing over at Mizutani from time to time. For one thing, the game might be silenced, but _he’s_ not; Abe wonders if he’s conscious of all the ridiculous noises he’s making. Or the faces he pulls when (Abe assumes) he hits a tricky part, his silly smile when he gets a good score. His muttered castigation when he’s interrupted by texts (he always stops to answer, though, sometimes reading things out to Abe). All this in brief stolen flashes as Abe carries them further south, further west. _He couldn’t have had the consideration to fall in love with someone_ closer _, now, could he?_

He rolls down the windows as they cross the bridge, the salt wind making tawny flames of Mizutani’s loose hair. Beyond him, Abe can see the stretch of the inland sea; it’s a different colour down here, the smell perhaps fresher. Beyond the grey spread of the cities, the forest dips its hem in the smooth waves, fading into mist in the distance. _We could go check it out. There’s probably parks…_

Abe shakes his head, focusing back on the road. _Maybe on my way home. Good to stretch my legs._

His eyes slip back to Mizutani, leaning on the door to peer out; Abe can’t see more than a sliver of his cheek, but _smile_ seems to radiate off him.

Abe squares his shoulders, his own lips irresistibly curving up.

* * *

 

Mizutani switches between watching the city slip past and monitoring their little dot's progress on the map. His stomach is turning happy somersaults, and it’s nearly impossible to sit still; for once, Abe doesn’t seem bothered, though. _Probably just ‘cause he’s gonna be rid of me soon._

Mizutani side-eyes him, eyes narrowed. Abe himself seems fidgety, tugging surreptitiously on his shirt as they wait at a stop light. With another jolt of his stomach, it occurs to Mizutani he’s not going to be able to get it back until he gets home. _We’re gonna have to see each other again. Did Abe…do that on purpose?_ As soon as the idea occurs to him, he almost laughs aloud. Not that he doesn’t think Abe would be capable, just the idea of him intentionally going so far out of his way just so he would have to spend _more_ time with another person seems…odd. _Honestly, I half expect to get it back in the mail or something._

Mizutani smiles to himself, sinking back in the seat. Part of him wants to suggest Abe just keep it; Mizutani's seen more than enough of him in the past few years to know Abe still seems to live in athletic clothing and shapeless tees. Mizutani covertly eyes the curve of his stomach, the shape of his bicep as he turns a corner. _If_ I _had a body like that, I’d wanna show it off._ He glances down at the pale yellow shirt he’d finally settled on; not like he thinks he looks _bad_ , or anything, just…

He has to resist the temptation to ask Abe (again) if he looks okay. He’ll just give him another irritated look and tell him he looks _fine_ in a way that feels more like ‘you’re stupid’ than a compliment. _I wonder what body types he likes…_

Mizutani glances over again, only then registering that the car is stopped. Abe stares back at him expectantly until he opens the door and scrambles out.

His legs feel like jelly from the long ride and his steadily mounting nerves. Mizutani grabs the duffle bag’s handles, tugging it to the end of the seat. He hesitates, almost afraid to look up. When he does, Abe’s regarding him coolly.

“It feels kinda dumb just saying thanks after all that, but…”

Abe looks away. “Then don’t. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Feeling more let down than seems right, Mizutani hums an affirmative.

Fingers slide into his hair, ruffling it. When he glances back up, Abe’s smiling crookedly. “It was fun, okay?” He tugs Mizutani’s hair lightly. “You’re not gonna make a good impression, making a gloomy face like that.”

"Not gonna make a good impression with you messing up my hair." Mizutani smiles back wanly. Abe doesn’t seem particularly inclined to release him, and Mizutani makes no move to pull away. He blinks down at his bag, twisting the straps in his hands. “I’ll owe you a beer sometime.”

Abe hums a vague affirmative, dropping his hand; Mizutani flees before he can acknowledge how little of that offer was obligation.

He stops to fix his hair in a window on his way up, giving himself a last check-over; he looks…like himself, he supposes. _It’s fine, Sachi-chan’s seen me looking scruffier than this!_ He takes a deep breath, heart in his mouth as he checks the address one last time and then presses the beige buzzer.

“Hey,” comes the response, and Mizutani’s so relieved to hear Sachiko’s voice that he barely registers the curtness of it.

“Um…surprise?” He smiles awkwardly at the intercom.

A lengthy pause, during which Mizutani can’t seem to breathe. Then, crackly and distant but distinctly male, someone asks, “What is it?”

_Maybe she lives with family. Maybe she has a roommate. A friend over._

Sachiko replies blithely, “Just the mail! I think there’s a package. I’ll deal with it, babe.”

The world seems to shift out from under his feet, resettling in a very different configuration.

So many little signs he’d been happy to ignore in favour of what he’d wanted, in favour of Sachiko’s smile and how good it felt having that smile shine on him.

It occurs to him too late he could’ve just bolted.

He’s seen Sachiko annoyed before (and still thought she was beautiful, she’s still beautiful now), but never alight with fury like she is when she slams her way out of the apartment and grabs the front of his shirt.

She drags him around the corner into a stairwell and then rounds on him. “Are you fucking _insane?_ ”

“I thought… I thought…” There’s too much, too much that he’d thought, and all of it wrong.

“You thought this was something _serious_ , didn’t you? Jesus Christ…” She rolls her eyes and then glares up at him malevolently. “How stupid _are_ you? You think you get flashed a titty and you get a full-access pass? You’re just some guy off the internet I have fun with. Not even like you’re the only one.”

He gapes, too stunned to be hurt. “But that guy…” He glances back towards the hall.

“Let me reintroduce myself.” She curves her lips in an angry mockery of pleasantness. “Iwata Sachiko, Bored Housewife Extraordinaire, Seducer of Idiots. _That_ man,” she jerks her chin contemptuously, “is more interested in spreadsheets than keeping me entertained.” She sneers back at Mizutani. “If you’d come basically any other time of year, he’d be holed up at the office. Then maybe at least I coulda let you cop a feel for your trouble.”

He doesn’t want to hear any more, just wants to get out of here.

_And go where?_

Her face softens minutely. “Look, I’m sorry,” she doesn’t seem the least bit sorry, “I didn’t mean to lead you on. Or…not like this. I just figured you knew what this was?” She gestures at the space between them; the distance seems more infinite than it ever had back in Saitama.

He can’t look her in the eye. “No, I’m…sorry. Sorry.” _Please, please let this be a bad dream. A joke._ He pushes past her, heading for the stairway down. “Sorry.” He knows each apology is more a plea for her to feel just a _little_ bad, but he also knows if he looked back he’d see nothing of the sort on her face.

He doesn’t run, he has enough pride for that at least, and enough sense to realise running pell-mell into an unfamiliar city is a bad idea. His long legs carry him quickly enough, down the street and around a few corners and further still until he finds a relatively pleasant-looking alley to sink down in with his face in his hands.

_How could I have been so stupid? Getting ahead of myself like this?_

_Did she ever really even encourage it, or was it all just me?_

_Why do I always do shit like this?_

He cries for a while, undignified but mercifully quiet; the seagull picking at trash across from him is undisturbed. But the pavement under his butt is hard, and if he’s going to wallow in self-hatred, he might as well be doing it in comfort or at least on the train home. Mizutani fishes out his phone, thumb hovering over the map icon but his eyes on the phone one.

_Abe’s probably long gone by now._

_Would he come back for me?_

_He shouldn’t. I’m stupid, worthless garbage._

He buries his face in his arms for a while longer.

Then his phone chirps.

[03:49pm]

[From: Abeeeee!]

[Subject: Just in case]

[If everything goes south,

You’ve got until I finish this coffee to let me know.]

[03:49pm]

[From: Abeeeee!]

[No Subject]

[It’s not a very big coffee, but I’ll drink slow.]

Mizutani stares at the words bleakly. They seem like something intended for someone else. But here they are, on his phone through some miraculous accident. Before shame can win out over gratitude, he hits the ‘call’ button.

“So?” There’s the soft sound of bland café music in the background, the murmur of voices.

Mizutani takes a few uneven breaths, then hollowly answers, “I fucked up.”

Abe sighs. “Of course you did. Where are you?”

* * *

 

Part of him wants to be pissed at Mizutani, but he looks so much like a kicked puppy when Abe pulls up at the side of the road, it just seems…unsportsmanlike. So he just waits for Mizutani to buckle in and then hands him the caramel frappe he’d picked up and pulls into traffic.

“You wanna stop here for the night?”

Mizutani grimaces, shaking his head. It’s obvious he’s been crying, but Abe decides to tactfully ignore it. “I wanna get as far away from here as we can. And then I want to get spectacularly drunk.” He drops his head back against the seat, giving Abe a sidelong look. “If it looks like I’m gonna die of alcohol poisoning, don’t hurry to call the ambulance.” It comes out too miserable to really be a joke. Abe hums awkward assent, focusing on tracing his way back to the highway and leaving Mizutani to sadly slurp his drink.

After a while, Mizutani takes out his iPod. With such dejectedness that Abe’s left biting his lips together to stop himself from snorting with laughter, Mizutani plugs it in and starts scrolling through. Abe stops paying attention until Mizutani makes a frustrated noise. And then another, hands jerking up in restrained anger. “I can’t figure out how to fucking delete playlists off this piece of shit. _Why_ is it so hard?”

Feeling already very tired, Abe grabs hold of his wrist, pulling his hand down towards his lap. “Deal with it later. If it bugs you so much to see it, just put on the radio instead.”

Peripherally, he can see Mizutani giving him a sulky look; he decides to ignore it, returning both hands to the wheel. After a long pause, Mizutani puts on a playlist. He lets snatches of songs play before skipping to the next until he grits out a betrayed noise and chucks the defenseless iPod in the foot well.

Abe gets them a ways up the coast, though they’re still short of the bridge to Honshu when he nudges Mizutani. “You wanna look for somewhere to stay?”

Mizutani navigates them in a deadpan voice to another generically pleasant motel. Abe leaves him staring into space in the car while he goes in to arrange for a room. The disinterested man behind the counter informs him that yes, there are rooms, but the only two left are queens. Abe hopes for a second he’s misunderstood his accent but then just sighs resignedly and says that’ll be fine. He’s already thinking that was probably a bad idea before he remembers Mizutani’s penchant for nocturnal wandering. _So, not getting any sleep tonight. Alright then._

_Friendship seems like such an ill-advised undertaking._

Not that he feels Mizutani’s getting anything better out of the deal. If he were someone like Sakaeguchi or Oki, he might know how to say something gentle, something comforting, or if he were like Tajima, he could pull goofy shit until Mizutani forgot all about it for a while. Or even Mihashi, so full of sweet earnestness and faith that bad feelings always, always seemed to crumble. Or at least for Abe.

But he is, unfortunately, himself, so what he does is pull them into a parking space and start walking towards the building without a glance backwards, saying gruffly, “C’mon. Dump your crap and we’ll find somewhere to eat.”

Mizutani drops his bag on the floor and slumps down on the bed, only once rousing enough to give Abe a startled look over his shoulder. Abe ignores him, poking around on his phone’s map. And finding a nearby pub that’s open. Reasonably priced. Good ratings.

With a sinking feeling of inevitability, he walks over and holds out the website to Mizutani. “Sound good?”

Mizutani nods mutely and trails after him like a ghost.

The pub is mostly full of old men escaping their families; Abe has the passing thought that that’ll be him someday, but he’s honestly pretty okay with that. He eyes the bar, but then makes for a table in the corner. He might be silent now, but Abe has a feeling the second Mizutani gets any alcohol in him, he’s going to wanna _talk_ about this.

_I feel like I’ll have built up some serious good karma by the end of this trip._

He was hoping Mizutani would rally when they started looking at the menu. There’s a limit to how long even Abe can handle sitting in silence, certainly not this oppressive miserable kind. But Mizutani remains listless even through ordering. He gets carded when he asks for a beer; Abe doesn’t. He smirks until he notices that instead of playful scowling, Mizutani is just staring blankly at the table.

He’s had about enough. “Look, is acting like this helping you feel any better? Because it doesn’t seem to be.”

Mizutani flinches, still not looking at him. “Please don’t be mean to me right now.”

“I _wasn’t_ —” Abe shuts his mouth with a snap, giving Mizutani a narrow-eyed look as the server sets two bottles down on the table. Abe snatches his up irritably. “It’s obvious something shitty went down, but it’s not like she took your arm off or anything, so could you just—”

“Abe. It’s been four. Hours. Some of us actually have hearts that aren’t just a goddamn baseball.” Mizutani leans his elbows on the table, hunched over. “Sorry I’m not pleasant company just yet.”

Abe bites back several angry retorts to sip his beer. “That’s _not_ what I meant. I don’t need you to entertain me.” For some reason, Mizutani flinches at that, too. “Look, okay, I’m not good at this crap. I don’t know what you need from me right now.” He does his best to soften his tone, to make that an invitation rather than a slammed door. It’s debatable how well he succeeds.

Mizutani’s silent for a long time. Abruptly, he raises his bottle and chugs nearly half of it.

_Uh oh._

“She’s _married_.” Mizutani mashes his face into his arms, rolling the bottle on its bottom edge absently. “How could I have been so _stupid?_ ”

“Pretty easily.” Mizutani gives him as close to an incensed look as Abe has ever seen on his face. “No, okay, what I mean is, I’m sure she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with this information, yeah?”

Mizutani looks away with a shake of his head, taking another (more moderate) sip of beer. “I dunno. She…now I’m thinking about it, she was really cagey about personal stuff, and there wasn’t anything in her computer area, I never saw…” He wrinkles his nose miserably. “It seemed mysterious and sexy, before.”

Abe leans back, gesturing with his bottle. “See, shit like that? It should be a red flag. You can’t—”

“Sorry I’m not a suspicious bastard like you!” Mizutani takes another disconsolate swig of beer.

“I’m _not_ a—” Abe gives him a sour look. “I’m not telling you to never trust anyone again, I’m just saying, try not to be a complete gullible fool. Pay attention. Ask yourself if you’re just seeing what you want, if there’s other interpretations. _Especially_ if your feelings are strong, which they obviously were.”

Mizutani seems very slightly mollified. The bottle’s neck rolls loosely in his fingers. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just…I’m pissed at myself, not her.”

“You _should_ be pissed at her.” Mizutani looks up sharply, his cheeks already pink from the alcohol. “Taking some personal responsibility doesn’t mean that she’s not an asshole. You…implied you two had been…intimate.” Mizutani nods glumly. “So she’s manipulative, a liar, and she’s cheating. Seems to me she should feel lucky you didn’t turn around and go tell her husband right then and there.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Of _course_ you wouldn’t.”

Mizutani takes another drink, making a face like he’s not sure whether to be offended by that. “So what, everybody’s a dumb piece of shit?”

Abe leans on the table, rubbing between his brows. “No, that’s not what I— Why is it you think I’m some kind of bitter, misanthropic—”

Mizutani raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe ‘cause I know you?”

Abe narrows his eyes but before he can retort, the server arrives with their food. He waits until she’s moved away (with Mizutani’s request for a second bottle). “Well, I’m _not_.” He breaks his chopsticks with an unnecessarily loud snap. “I just think you should consider all the evidence. And the evidence says, whatever your feelings, this is not a person whose actions warrant you beating yourself up over her.”

Mizutani pokes glumly at a dish of pickles, then looks up with a watery smile. “I’m surprised. That’s actually not terrible advice.” With all his new-found sensitivity, Abe kicks him under the table. Much to his relief, Mizutani kicks him back. Then looks down at their meal again, eyes hidden by his lashes. “I just…need some time, okay?”

Abe watches him impassively for a while before nodding. “Okay. In the meantime, eat up.” Mizutani doesn’t look up, but he smiles again, something sweet and wistful.

When the fourth beer arrived on the table, Abe started bracing himself for waterworks. Mizutani’s a worse kind of drunk. He’s hyper.

“Think we can walk to the beach from here? I wanna throw that stupid bear in the _ocean_. Maybe on fire. Wait, do _you_ got a lighter? _I_ don’t have one… Maybe one of these old geezers…” Mizutani hops up to glance around then slumps in defeat, but there’s playfulness to it now.

Abe leans his chin on his fist, giving him a patient look. “Leave the poor bear alone. It’s not _its_ fault.”

Mizutani sits back, eyes widening. “Whoaaaa, Abe! Never thought you’d be defending lil’ Kuma-chan!” He beams at him. “Maybe I’ll give him to _you_ , since ya seem so fond.”

Abe jerks away with a distasteful expression. “If you do, I’m shoving it down your throat.”

Whatever he’d said earlier, Mizutani’s cheeks are ruddy, his eyes alight. He leans across the table, taking a swig of beer with his lips tracing a playful curve. “Like to see you try!”

Abe raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure there’s a bruise on your ass says I can take you no problem.” _That sounded…lewd._ Abe can’t help glancing around too, hoping no one’s listening in on this embarrassing conversation. He exhales a heavy sigh.

When he looks back, Mizutani’s eyes are on his mouth.

Abe quickly takes a drink to hide the startled jolt in his stomach. _What the hell?_ Frowning, he gestures with his bottle. “You should drink some water. If you barf in the car tomorrow, I’m kicking you out.”

Mizutani snorts but sips his water anyway. He doesn’t look even slightly quelled. “So am I right, then?”

“What?” Abe has the distinct feeling he’ll regret asking.

Mizutani wiggles in his seat, hand curled in front of his mouth and the tip of his thumb slipping between his teeth. “That you like bears.” He folds his arms on the table, smirking like he’s just overturned a secret. “Or…you like ‘em little?”

Abe rubs between his brows in an effort to keep his cool and in no way in order to hide his face. “Mizutani…”

“Mizutani,” he parrots Abe’s exasperated tone back. Mizutani snorts, some of his earlier bitterness stealing back into his face as he sips his beer. But when he looks back at Abe, he’s smiling again. “We always figured you were dating, y’know?”

“What the hell are you _on_ about—”

“Like half the time, when you disappeared to have “meetings”, you were really hidin’ out behind the shed, makin’ out.”

If Abe could just cease existing for the foreseeable future, he would be quite pleased. He jerks his chin stubbornly. “We _weren’t_. Stop making up weird shit.”

Mizutani points at him with the neck of his bottle. “But you know exaaaaactly who I’m talkin' about!”

Abe narrows his eyes. “There are limited possibilities.” He finds he’s unwilling to lay out a flat denial that he’s into guys; he decides it’s because it feels childish and no other reason.

Fortunately, Mizutani’s busy waving down the server. She makes concerned eye contact with Abe when he asks for another beer; Abe mouths ‘we’re walking’ at her and she seems reassured. Abe rests his face heavily on one hand, hoping Mizutani will want to go back after this one and preparing himself to drag him if not.

Mizutani remains silent (if smug and fidgety) until she leaves again. “So. You still didn’t answer.”

Abe cringes. “Didn’t answer what?”

“Which you like!” Mizutani beams, drinking.

Abe swears under his breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with both hands for a moment before straightening to stare Mizutani down. “I like who I like. I don’t really think about it that way.”

Mizutani kicks him under the table. Less of a kick. More of a bump. “Come onnnnnnnnn! There’s gotta be _something!_ ”

“There _isn’t_.” _At least not anything I can put into such easy terms as some cliché._ Abe smirks back at Mizutani. “I like people who can shut the hell up.”

Mizutani sputters a laugh into his fist, blushing brightly. “What, you like ‘em to use their mouths for something else?”

Abe growls out an irritated noise, killing the words on his tongue, the part of him that wants to say _it’s stuff like that, it’s the honest, stupid way you laugh, even if you’re being an obnoxious dork. It’s the way you get your heart broken and mended six times before breakfast and you’ll still just go hurling it into the next thing. The way you’re so easily swept up in others’ energy, breaking through your own inertia. Breaking through mine._

Sipping his (still second) beer, Abe narrows his eyes at him. _And okay, maybe something pleasing in the shape of your face, in the lines of your chest and shoulders. It’s not that it’s not physical, just…_ He grumbles out a low noise, rubbing between his brows.

When he looks up, Mizutani’s still giggling to himself. He meets Abe’s eyes with a playful glint, but before he can do more than open his mouth, Abe sets his bottle down on the table with a _thunk_. “Right. Finish your beer— _and_ your water—and then we’re heading back.”

“Ohhhhhh, wanna get me home?”

“Just _drink._ ” Abe shoves himself to his feet, retreating to the bar. Resentfully, he pays for both of them, if for no other reason than getting them out of here quickly.

When he turns back, Mizutani’s standing, leaning on the table to guzzle his water with a happy expression. Or maybe it’s Abe’s glass. He tries not to think about it. Or how appealing the angles of Mizutani’s shoulders and hips are. Or the fleeting image of Mizutani leaning over _him_ on the table instead, Abe’s legs on his shoulders, and—

Abe claps his hands to his face, dragging them down. _The sooner we can get back, the closer I will be to pretending this ill-advised trip never happened._

He spends most of the walk home with a firm grip on the back of Mizutani’s t-shirt, hauling him back every time he tries to hare off after something. When he finally gets the room door open, Abe nearly throws him through. And then dashes after him when Mizutani stumbles towards the bed.

“Go brush your teeth! And drink more water.”

Mizutani makes a thoroughly disgusted noise but lets himself be pushed toward the bathroom anyway. “If I drink any more water, I’m gonna be _made_ outta pee.”

Abe exchanges a deeply tired look with the generic painting of a dog hanging above the bed before following Mizutani. “Thank you for the heads-up.” _No couch, but there’s an armchair. I can sleep in an armchair if I have to. Hell, I’ll sleep on the floor._

And yet, somehow, he ends up in the bed.

At least Mizutani seems to have settled down a bit. Abe’s pleased until it occurs to him that it’ll probably also mean a return of his moping. _Hopefully, one or both of us falls asleep first._

He can’t help glancing over at Mizutani, across the careful spread of empty blanket between them. His face is in profile, eyes open, face soft and solemn. He inhales and exhales slowly, then starts, “Abe—”

“No. Go to sleep.”

Mizutani shoves himself up indignantly. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“Unless it’s that the motel is on fire, it can wait until morning.”

Grumbling, Mizutani flops over on his stomach. Closer. “You’re a jerk.” He lies still for a moment before dropping his head to his folded arms, peeking over at Abe; he tries to ignore him. “Do you...think I’m unlovable?”

 _Fucking. Hell_. Abe rubs over his eyebrow. “No. Of course not.”

Mizutani burrows his face against his arms, his voice coming out muffled. “I _feel_ unlovable. I—”

“This is really the kind of shit you should work out with a counselor. Or a—” Abe grimaces. “Or at least not me.”

“But you’re the person that’s _here_.”

“Wow, thanks. What a stunning recommendation.”

Mizutani elbows his shoulder. “Not what I meant!” He rests his chin on his arms. “I mean, like, I’m _happy_ —okay, not happy, but— Because…I dunno. You could’ve said no when I first called. You could’ve lied, earlier, said you were already too far up the coast. You just…” Mizutani tilts his head towards him, though he won’t make eye contact. “You’re just…a really good guy, y’know?”

Abe glances over, giving him a crooked smile. “Well. I guess that’s better than just being the guy that’s here.”

“Better than…!” Mizutani makes an exasperated noise, elbowing him again. Then going back to peeking around his arm at him. “…Abe?”

“Go. To. _Sleep_.” Abe rolls away from him.

“I’m gonna! I just…” Mizutani sighs. Wistfully. “D’you think… Maybe…just for tonight…” Abe goes from doing his best to pass out to red alert. “I dunno. I just…” Mizutani shifts around with another sigh.

_Fucking get on with it so I can tell you to screw off._

“Like…would you…cuddle me? Please?”

Abe spends a solid couple of seconds debating whether to pretend he _had_ fallen asleep. “You want me to get you a glass of warm milk, too? Maybe your blankie?”

The _fwump_ of Mizutani dropping his head back on his arms. “Nevermind! Forget I even said anything.”

Abe squints into the darkness, debating. _What the hell. Maybe I can play this “good guy” role for just a little longer._

He rolls over on his other side, slinging an arm across Mizutani and hauling him back against his chest. _When I get home, I’m locking the door and turning off my phone for the rest of the week. The rest of the month._

Mizutani stiffens at first, as if he hadn’t been the one to ask for this, but then slowly relaxes in the circle of Abe’s arm.

It’s far too warm for this, and Abe can already feel the back of his borrowed shirt clinging to his skin damply. Mizutani can’t seem to decide what to do with his hands and keeps elbowing Abe in the arm; his hair is a hot, silky cloud and appears to be trying to infiltrate Abe’s nose and mouth. And yet, and yet, he can’t say he doesn’t like it.

Smiling with a mix of fondness and annoyance, he extracts his arm from Mizutani’s fidgeting, smoothing his hair down, out of the way as much as possible. Once, twice. The side of his hand brushes Mizutani’s ear, fingers sliding into the warm, soft strands.

_Crap._

“If it’s bugging you, I could turn around?”

Abe makes a noncommittal noise; he honestly couldn’t say for the life of him which way he wants Mizutani to take it. There’s a brief hesitation when he can’t tell. And then in a rush with far more elbows and knees than seems right, Mizutani wriggles his way onto his other side.

Abe puts up with about two seconds more of fidgeting hands before snapping out, “Just put them _somewhere_.” Which Mizutani apparently takes to mean ‘wrap your arm around my waist’.

Mizutani looks down, and there’s tension in him now, tension in the shoulder muscles under Abe’s hand and the legs brushing, bumping against his own. Like this, Mizutani’s hair is in his face again; Abe pulls a face at the darkness.

“Either lift your head up or move. Your hair’s still in my face.”

Mizutani mumbles something along the lines of ‘bossy douchetruck’ but tilts up his head anyway. The tip of his nose brushes past Abe’s.

There is no breath in the sweltering room.

Again, but less a brush than a graze. A caress.

Abe’s eyes fall shut, his lips parting on the softest frustrated breath.

Somehow, he’d unconsciously expected Mizutani to be a bad kisser. Abe is pleasantly surprised to find he’s wrong.

Fingers curl against his back, gripping, dragging fabric over hot skin. Abe’s own fingers itch to feel bare skin; he resists the urge for a long breathless minute before dropping his hand to Mizutani’s hip, shoving up his shirt with a hard exhale against his mouth. Mizutani reacts beautifully, swallowing his breath with a gasp of his own and a sinuous roll of his hips before he seeks Abe’s mouth again. His free hand smooths up Abe’s chest, cramped and tense and hungry as it fits against his cheek.

And he could, he’s sure he could soothe that hunger and the hurt fueling it, at least for the space of an evening. And god, he wants to, wants to luxuriate in these sharp, sweet kisses, to allow the hand creeping down his back to reach its goal. More than he had anticipated. But…

_But I don’t want to be your next mistake._

_And sure as hell not just because I’m just the one that’s here._

Abe tips his head away, hand coming up to gently, gently rest against Mizutani’s lips. “Mizutani…” His eyes blink open, shining with filtered streetlight and heartbreak. “No. Now is when I say no.”

He’s half expecting sulking or theatrics of some kind, but Mizutani’s fingers just curl against his back for a beat before he rolls away.

Abe remains on his side, wishing there were some way to extend a friendly hand, to say _sorry_ , to say _I’m doing this for you as much as anything_. But he’s just as crap at this stuff as he is at the rest of it and all he does is roll on his back with a soft sigh.

He falls asleep with a frown and the taste of Mizutani’s mouth on his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wish I had more of a chance to show Sachiko; I think she's an interesting lil piece of work. I don't think she sets out to be awful to people, but she's certainly not afraid of it. She's not very self-critical and she's more than happy to heap the blame on others for the situations she ends up in. When Mizutani sees her, she's mad because she's ashamed of being caught out, but more than that, I think she's the type, especially with online interactions, who kind of thinks of the people as "not real" on some level, or at least very distant, and having Mizutani up in her grill is kind of like having a character show up on your doorstep. For her sake, I hope she grows the fuck out of it. Like do what you want, my bros, but lying to people, even through omission, is Not Cool.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is a schedule anymore. schedules are for people who get weekends.

Mizutani wakes up sweaty and stifling and less hungover than he feels he deserves and so bone-deep miserable that he almost doesn’t give a shit about the rest.

He’s disappointed that Abe has stayed on the other side of the bed. But not surprised, he supposes. (Though he was pretty sure he’d started on the  _ other _ side; also that he himself had not been kneeling on the floor.) Mizutani watches the steady rise and fall of one shoulder, the slant of jaw and cheek barely visible, the lay of the short hairs at his nape.

_ I guess no one wants to be the rebound fuck. Not that I think he would’ve, anyway… _

_ Is it even a rebound if we weren’t ever really dating? _

He lets himself wallow a minute longer before staggering to his feet and over to the window. Parting the sheers, he pushes the sash higher, inhaling the slightly cooler early morning air. It’s inadequately refreshing; he whirls and heads for the bathroom to splash water on his face.

He comes back into the room to the distinct feel of those grey eyes on him. He’s expecting some judgement, some censure, but Abe just…watches him. Is still watching when Mizutani slips back under the sheet, Abe now with his head propped on his fist.

“How’re you feeling?”

Mizutani settles on his back, grimacing at the ceiling. “Don’t ask me that.” He glances briefly at Abe, then away again, not wanting to give himself time to search for something that isn’t there. Something that he thinks, he  _ thinks _ he’d tasted last night, something he’d like to have again. “Gross. Stupid? Embarrassed.” He covers his face with both hands, elbows sticking up in the air. “Kinda glad at least you  _ already _ thought I was a total idiot, so—”

The sound of Abe rising from the bed. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” When Mizutani peeks, he’s leaning on the windowsill looking out, much like he had earlier. “An uncoordinated ditz, yeah, and too likely to leap without looking, and sometimes a little short on logic—”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Mizutani hurls his pillow at his back; to his satisfaction, this time it connects. Hits a little lower than he was aiming for, though. Mizutani sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed before Abe can do more than twitch.

“I’m just being honest.” Mizutani can practically hear Abe shrug as he moves away from the window. “I don’t think you’re stupid, but I do think you need to…” There’s uncertainty in Abe’s tone.

_ Or perhaps reluctance? _

_ Nah. _

“Just…think things through.” Fabric rustles.

“Yeah, maybe I don’t  _ want _ to.” He sounds like a petulant child and he knows it. Mizutani glances over his shoulder. And feels almost more ashamed when he catches Abe not coyly bent over like some gravure model but eyes straight ahead on the way to the bathroom with clothes in his fist.

Catching Mizutani’s eye, he jerks his head. “You need it?”

He can only shake his head in response. As the soft sound of water filters through the room, Mizutani collapses back on the bed with his arms over his face.

_ Must be nice, not being easy. _

As if it could somehow redeem some of the previous night, Mizutani grabs their morning coffees and breakfast. When he turns back from the counter, Abe’s poking around on his phone, face unreadable. But he gives Mizutani an easy half-smile when he looks up, tucking it back into his pocket as he accepts his cup.

Mizutani loses himself in playing llsif and the sweetness of his coffee and tries not to think. Or look at Abe. Definitely not think about kissing Abe. Not his tiny startled twitch when their lips met, not that bare pause—of hesitation, of savour, of mysterious Abe calculations—before he’d crushed him close. Not think about being held like he was precious but sturdy, much more sturdy than he felt himself.

Mizutani’s face burns; he slouches down in the seat. He doesn’t even know where to start, trying to piece together what either of them feels—and despite his admonishment to think more, Abe’s opinion on  _ this _ matter seems to be “don’t.”

But now he’s curious.

He glances surreptitiously at Abe, but his attention is seized by the view beyond him. Dense forest, the boles of the trees close to the road sepia-toned with dust, their shiny bushy tops crowding down the slope. And when he looks ahead to where the road bends, he can just see a glitter, a flash of grey-blue.

He’s still staring dumbfounded at the tidy gravel parking lot they pull into when Abe leans against the car, peering at him. “You gonna grab that godawful bear or what?”

Mizutani blinks at him for a second longer before unclipping his seatbelt. “Eh? Why’d you drag me out to the middle of nowhere?”

Abe grins at him over the roof of the car. “I don’t think anywhere in Japan counts as the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s not an answer.” Abe is already striking for a path. Mizutani clucks his tongue and ducks down to retrieve the bear.

_ What on earth does he want? Why are we _ — He fuzzily remembers saying something about it the night before… Mizutani frowns at Abe’s back as he trails after him.

_ Is he being…nice to me?? _

They don’t have far to go before they come out on a terrace with a playground, a trio of kids dashing around it in the thin morning light. Below it, there are steps leading down to a small crescent of sandy beach with a pair of elderly women walking on it.

Abe steps out onto the sand and then turns back to raise an eyebrow at him. Mizutani stops dawdling, feet slipping a little as he jogs over. Abe’s already started moving again, making for an outcropping of rock at one end of the beach. Mizutani keeps expecting him to talk, to explain himself, but in typical Abe fashion, he doesn’t seem to think he needs to. Just clambers up the rough incline without another glance backward.

Finally, they reach the top. On the point, the wind is snappier, the waves below them spitting salt and sound into the air. Mizutani shades his eyes to peer across the water at the other shore, feeling more at peace than he has…since long before this trip, if he’s honest. He breathes out a soft laugh, turning to tell Abe something like, only to find him gone.

Or not gone, but off down the rocks a bit. Mizutani hops and scrambles down beside him. Abe balances in a crouch at the edge of a deep tidal pool, examining it curiously.

Mizutani crouches beside him with a snicker. “You are such a dork, you know that?”

“What?” Abe seems legitimately confused, which just makes Mizutani chuckle again.

“You gonna catch a lil’ fishy as a souvenir?”

“I dunno if you could reproduce a tidal ecosystem in a home aquarium—”

“Oh my god, I wasn’t serious!” Without thinking, he leans over, bumping against Abe’s shoulder; Abe bumps him back, making him glad of his steadying hand on the rocks beside him, Kuma-chan still gripped in his fist.

“Neither was I.” Abe blinks. “Well, okay, I was, but…”

“Look at that one!” Mizutani points excitedly at a small grey crab poking out of a apple green child’s block.

Abe snorts out a laugh. “Points for adaptiveness, little guy.” He swirls fingers in the water near it; the crab scuttles back under a ledge.

“You’re pretty cute when you actually smile, y’know.”

“What the hell?” To Mizutani’s delight, despite his outraged tone, Abe flushes spectacularly, jamming the back of his hand over his mouth.

Suddenly, it all feels…easy. Easy, and very, very appealing. “Still pretty cute when you’re cranky,” he beams, “which is pretty lucky, since—”

“Mizutani,” Abe sighs, and just like that, he’s reminded who he’s dealing with. Nothing is ever easy with Abe Takaya unless he wants it to be.

Elbows resting on his knees, he lets Kuma-chan dangle from his hands and pulls a sulky face. “What?”

Abe’s silent for a moment longer. Then he growls out an irritated noise, burying his face in his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to look out for  _ you _ . Don’t make me the bad gu _ — _ ”

“Why does it feel like you’ve already had eighty percent of this conversation in your head?” Mizutani jiggles the bear disconsolately.

“And why are  _ you _ acting like a kid who’s been told he can’t have ice cream?” Abe grumbles again. “You can’t just keep throwing yourself head-first into stuff when you have no idea what the outcome will be. When you don’t even know if you want it. You need to learn to slow the hell down.”

“At the risk of sounding even  _ more _ like a kid, fuck you, you don’t get to tell me what I should do.” He glances over; Abe’s giving him an unreadable sidelong glance, more curious than anything. Mizutani meets Kuma-chan’s beady stare, squinting a little. “Sometimes you can’t know if you want something until you’re waist-deep. So you gotta just jump in, y’know?”

“That sounds like an exceptionally poor way to run your life.”

“Yeah, well, so does yours!” Mizutani sticks his tongue out; Abe looks offended enough that he can’t help but laugh. He drops the bear on the rocks, pushing his hands back through his hair. “Everything requires a leap of faith at some point, yeah? And maybe shit doesn’t turn out how you hoped, but sometimes that’s good, right? Like if I hadn’t had the dumbass idea to come down here, who knows how long I’d’a gone before finding out about Sachiko?”

Abe grunts out acknowledgement. “I still think it’s—”

“And I wouldn’t’ve spent all this quality time with you.”

Abe slaps his hands over his face again with a guttural sigh. “Is this…your attempt at flirting? Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Mizutani ducks his chin sheepishly then catches Abe’s gaze. “It’s not working very well, is it?”

“No,” Abe says, so stuffily that Mizutani has to laugh.

“Well, anyway, you started it!” Abe gives him a deeply incredulous look. “What’s with the romantic seaside walk?”

Abe’s colour is still high, his mouth quirking in a crooked smirk. “I figured if you wouldn’t stop moping, I could dump  _ you _ in the water.”

The bear is spared a watery grave, left instead on a swing with a paper napkin tucked over the heart with “to someone who needs me” scrawled on it. Abe points out most parents would probably still not let their child take a strange playground bear home, no matter what kind of signage it bore; Mizutani elbows him.

The air in the car feels lighter, the sunlight angling sharply through the windows brighter, crisper. Mizutani feels like he ought to mourn Sachiko a little longer on principle, but if he’s honest with himself… At this point, he just wants to put the experience behind him as quickly as possible. He side-eyes Abe;  _ he’d _ probably also think that was childish. Or maybe not, judging by what Mizutani blearily remembers of their conversation the night before.

Mizutani squints at him a moment longer and then blurts out, “Do you even like girls?”

“The fuck??” To his credit, the car’s course doesn’t even waver.

“Well? Do you?”

“Why are you asking?!”

“It’s a normal thing to be curious about!”

“No, it’s not!”

Mizutani slouches down in his seat. “You’re no fun.”

“And yet, for some reason,  _ you  _ landed yourself here.”

Mizutani gives him a sidelong glare that Abe casually ignores. Which gives Mizutani plenty of time to sink into admiring the curve of his shoulder down into his arm. This shirt’s looser, and part of him bemoans it until it occurs to him that would leave plenty of space for hands to slip up under the fabric, push it up Abe’s stomach or reveal the firm curve of his back that Mizutani’s hands had traced last night—

“I don’t think so.”

“Eh???” He flinches, cheeks flaming.

“I mean, I dunno. I guess I can’t rule it out, but so far, I’ve never had feelings like that for a woman, that I noticed.” Abe shrugs. “Then again, up to a certain age, coulda said the same about guys, so…”

Mizutani leans across the car gleefully. “Who was your first?”

“I’m not telling you!” Abe plants a hand on his face, shoving him away. And then a few seconds later, hunches over the wheel. “Mihashi. Probably.” He’s blushing again. It looks good on him.

With a crow of laughter, Mizutani claps his hands. “See?  _ Knew _ it!”

Abe’s shoulders hike higher for a second before he rolls them back with a heavy exhale. He shoots a quick glance at Mizutani. “What about you?”

He considers for a moment. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I knew I liked girls, so I just…didn’t really look beyond that, y’know? Or I guess maybe you don’t.” Abe shrugs. “And then…I just kinda started noticing guy’s bodies without it necessarily being like a particular  _ crush _ . Just…you can’t spend all your time around a bunch of dudes and not look, y’know? And eventually, you clue in it’s not just curiousity.”

Abe makes a noncommittal noise.

_ Is that what I’m doing now? _

“Is that why?”

“Huh?”

“Last night… Is it ‘cause I’m into girls too?”

Abe looks imploringly at the heavens. “I think I’ve made my reasoning abundantly clear.” He sighs huffily. “But no, it doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

Mizutani can’t really think of a good response so he just nods, picking at a loose thread on the seatbelt. His gaze snaps to Abe’s face.

_ Doesn’t…? Not ‘didn’t’. _

Not like he’d thought…well, at this point, he can’t tell  _ what _ to think. Mixed signals doesn’t even begin to cover it.

They only stop long enough to grab lunch and dinner (and, much to Mizutani’s delight, a carton of peaches from a toothless grandpa at the side of the road). Abe grouses a bit that he’d better help him clean out the car when they get home, but Mizutani doesn’t take it personally. Or the distinct feeling he gets that Abe’s…hurrying them. Or he  _ tries _ not to take it that way. As the sun slowly dips behind the mountains, he finds himself staring glumly out the window; not like he’d try and stick his tongue down Abe’s throat just because they shared a room again. Not like he’d say no to it either.

For his part, Abe seems…quietly agitated. He pulls them into a café’s parking lot late in the evening, saying they should stretch their legs. And he appears to need it, pacing around while they wait for their drinks such that Mizutani has to pantomime ‘don’t worry’ at the alarmed barista. As soon as they’ve got their drinks, Abe charges back to the car, leaving Mizutani trailing after him, perplexed.

“If I keep going, we could probably be back in Saitama by morning,” Abe starts while he’s still rounding the hood of the car, “or we could drive a couple more hours and stop for the night.”

Mizutani starts to make some polite ‘up to you’ noises as he swings into his seat. But he stops himself.

Eyes averted, Abe carefully settles himself in, checking the lid on his coffee cup and adjusting mirrors that have been adequately positioned this entire trip.

Something bright and hot twists in Mizutani’s belly, and before he’s even thought it through he’s turning in his seat, ready to plant a hand firmly on Abe’s thigh and let him know just which option he’d prefer.

The thing about leaping in, the thing about going with his gut, is it depends on things  _ feeling _ right, and something about this…doesn’t. Maybe it’s the almost business-like nature of Abe’s offer, maybe some barely-visible tension around his eyes and mouth. Maybe nothing real at all, and anyway, maybe he’s completely mistaken. Regardless, Mizutani flops back in the seat.

“Let’s keep going. Wouldn’t wanna waste the coffees.” He smiles over at Abe, who to his relief, gives him a wan smile back.

“ _ You _ had better sleep. There’s no point in us  _ both _ staying up all—”

“Abe.” His heart is racing, and now he’s all too conscious of how unsure everything is. He licks his lips quickly before starting, “Takaya. I’m not… Am I just seeing what I want, again?”

Abe had the key in the ignition, but he lets his hand drop to his lap. His expression is neutral as he stares at the dim outline of the low bushes edging the parking lot. Just when Mizutani’s decided he’s not going to answer and is starting to feel spectacularly dumb, Abe softly says, “No.”

“Good,” Mizutani laughs out.  _ I’m probably pushing my luck, but… _ “Hey…before we get going…” Abe finally looks at him, blandly raising an eyebrow. “Can I kiss you again?”

Abe turns away jerkily. “What the hell kind of question is that? Who asks that?”

“Me.” Mizutani’s a little startled by the firmness in his own voice. And again, again, there’s that easy feeling, though it’s not without the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through him as he angles across the car, unclipping his seatbelt. But still he waits, breathless with his face centimeters from the warmth of Abe’s cheek.

“Guess so,” Abe responds in a particularly gruff voice. Before Mizutani can do more than enjoy the flutter of his heart, he turns, grabbing the front of Mizutani’s shirt like he’s ready to punch him but oh, oh, sweet and heady and the taste of coffee on his tongue and Abe pulling him closer. Mizutani leans into him, fingers curling on his bicep, and noses against his cheek. He kisses Abe again, heavy and lingering and his breath rushing out through his nose. And then pulls back.

Abe takes a second to relinquish his grip. Barely, barely pulls on him, but lets him go with a graze of fingertips down his chest. “What, did some of what I said actually penetrate your thick skull?”

Mizutani snorts out a laugh. “Probably not, but for you, I’ll pretend.”

Abe raises an eyebrow in a deeply disbelieving expression.

Sleep claims Mizutani somewhere east of Kyoto, leaving him sagging against the dubious comfort of the door. But some time later, the absence of noise and motion wakes him. He gropes his way into enough consciousness to evaluate whether full awareness is required.

Across the car, Abe unbuckles his seatbelt and drops the seat back with a sigh. He pulls out his phone.

“Hwha…?”

Abe’s eyes flick over to him briefly. “I overestimated myself. If I don’t nap, I’m gonna wrap us around a pylon.”

“Thanks for not getting us killed,” he mumbles, dragging a hand up to unclip his own belt. Out the window, he can see moon-sharp shadows and leaves. “Where’re we…?”

“Decided I didn’t want to sleep with a face full of highway streetlamp, either. Enjoy.”

Mizutani hums a positive. He’s more woken up than he’d like, so he optimistically drops his seat back as well, wriggling in an attempt to get more comfortable.

And opens his eyes to catch Abe’s on him.

He is definitely one hundred percent awake now, though he doubts Abe meant to have that effect. And yeah, there’s much in the heavy blink of his eyes, in the smush of his cheek against the seat, that makes Mizutani want to snuggle under a blanket. But…

“What?” Abe snaps.

For a second, he considers brushing it off.

_ I know what I want, damnit. _

“This.” He gets a knee under himself, one hand planted on the car seat and he’s leaning over Abe, over, over, until his loose hair casts deeper shadow, feathered edge on Abe’s jaw. Distracting, appealing, and he kisses him lightly there, there, there, until Abe cups his face with an impatient noise and urges him up for a proper kiss. He feels the flush of it down his cheeks, down his shoulders and spine and Abe’s hand chasing it, skimming down his back to rest so lightly on the inward curve.

Mizutani pulls back with a gasp, finding Abe’s eyes. “Stop touching me like I’ll break,” he whispers, swinging his leg over the gear shift, banging into Abe’s knee and getting his foot stuck but he doesn’t  _ care _ —

“Are you insane?” Abe grabs him around the waist, heavy and sparking delicious adrenaline in him. “You’re going to sit on the horn, or—”

“So?” he laughs out, but doesn’t resist when Abe shoves him back to his side of the car.  _ Guess that’s that. But I’ll try agai— _

Abe stretches across the width of the car, awkward angles and his expression in shadow and the weight of one hand braced on Mizutani’s shoulder a prelude to his full weight settling on his thighs.

“Fuck,” he squeaks out, immediately grabbing Abe’s hips.

“We fit better this way,” Abe says, like it’s a matter of academic interest.

Knees squeeze around his hips and Mizutani can only muster some vague agreement and anyway they’re kissing again, lingering now with Abe’s nose against his cheek and one of his hands slipping up Mizutani’s arm, under his sleeve. He remembers his stray thought earlier and shoves up the back of Abe’s shirt, muggy heat under his fingertips and the fabric slipping back down to shelter his hungry exploration.

Abe tucks his face against his neck with a kiss and a heavy exhale. “We could’ve been doing this in a bed,” he grumbles.

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t tell me it’s not fun!”

Sitting back, Abe pushes a hand under the front of his shirt. “I dunno if bruised shins and the probable cramps I’m looking forward to counts as ‘fun’, but alright.”

“Ah…” He loses track of his response as Abe parts his thighs more, sliding higher on his lap. His face flames, embarrassed anticipation making him want to hide, but he stays where he is, eyes on Abe’s. He drags a hand down to his ass, squeezing as he rolls his hips.

Abe’s lids dip low before he scootches back a little, fingers finding the button of Mizutani’s shorts. “We’re in the middle of nowhere so far as I can tell, but let’s not linger.”

Mizutani pulls a face. “You really know how to romance a guy.”

“You want romance, I’d suggest finding someone else. And not going at it in a car in the middle of the night.”

“I dunno,  _ that _ part’s pretty romant—” He cuts off with a gasp as Abe gets his hand around his cock.

Abe snickers against his cheek, then kisses him with a heaviness to match his grip. “So noisy, what a drama queen.”

“Shut up.” In retaliation, he works open the front of Abe’s jeans, shoving his hand in past the bite of his zipper to grope his dick. He groans softly; he can blame the fact that it’s been a while, but it shouldn’t be so different, having someone else’s dick in his fist. Especially when they’re wearing his underwear.

He groans again, shoving his free hand down the back of Abe’s pants to grab his ass. “You’re…you’re wearing my…”

“Oh, that’s right.” Abe sits back, squinting down at him even as he strokes Mizutani’s dick quickly. “You were one of the ones into  _ weird  _ crap.”

It’s hard to muster a convincing denial when he’s groping Abe’s ass like he’s testing bread for freshness. He tries, though. “Hey, that was when I was practically a kid! You can’t hold that shit against me—”

“Right. Who  _ knows _ what kind of strange stuff you’re into now?”

Pulling a sulky face, Mizutani pinches his ass; Abe grabs his wrist with a laugh, a deliciously comfortable sound.

He shifts his grip, pushing Mizutani’s hand against his ass again as he leans over him. “Whatever, I can handle weird. …I’m not dressing up like a burglar for you, though.”

Mizutani slaps a hand over his face. “I was  _ fifteen! _ Come  _ on! _ ”

Abe’s lips graze his chin, his hips tilting back before hitching forward when Mizutani slips under the waistband of his boxers. His dick is mostly hard, filling Mizutani’s hand beautifully, skin velvety and sticky with heat.

“Are we talking spy movie-style, tight all-black get up, or do you wanna bang someone with a kerchief tied across their nose?” Mizutani groans, hips twitching. “Because the latter is at least doable. I think I’ve got a rag somewhere in the trunk that would do, if it’s all the sa—”

Mizutani slaps both hands over Abe’s mouth. “You’re a dick!”

Muffled laughter, Abe’s shoulders shaking, sending a strange crackle of pleasure through Mizutani’s chest. “What’s this, you into smothering people, too?” Mizutani considers retaliation but before he can make his limbs work, Abe’s batting his arms down with unfair ease and looming over him with a toothy grin.

Mizutani lies back on the seat, breathing out willing surrender as Abe follows him. He curls one arm under Mizutani’s shoulder, pulling them close together and barely leaving room for their hands to move so Mizutani rakes it up his back instead. Abe winces, sharp exhale silenced against Mizutani’s lips. Mizutani’s breath comes quick and he hooks his fingers on Abe’s waistband, pulling pants and boxers down over his ass.

“Uh…” He’s flushed; not like his intent isn’t clear in the fingers already teasing back up Abe’s cleft. “D’you… Is it…”

Abe sits back, eyes narrowed. “You got condoms?”

“Yes?” he squeaks, reaching back to grope blindly for his bag in the back seat.

Abe hauls his arm back with a gruff sigh. “Touch me,” he directs, leaning over Mizutani to reach it. “Where?”

All Mizutani can think about for a second is the face full of muscular chest he’s getting and that simple demand, that small assertion of  _ want _ . He collects his focus. “Side pocket. Uh, lengthways…” Honestly, it’s a miracle he hadn’t spilled them in public at any point.

He drags his hands down the outside of Abe’s thighs, then back up to his ass, pulling his pants down more so he can grope the soft skin. “This was one of the things I noticed.”

“Mm?” Abe sounds more impatient than curious, sitting back so he can peer at the foil packets he’s unearthed in better light.

“What we were talking about earlier. Like, at first I thought it was just an admiration thing, especially because I was always in the outfield, so I didn’t get to see you catch from up close all that often.”

Abe hums vaguely, squinting suspiciously at a trial packet of lube.

“So like, when I  _ could _ see…” He shouldn’t feel this shy about it, considering he’s already pushing a gentle finger against Abe’s hole. “I spent a lot of time looking at your ass when you’d go down in your crouch.”

Abe spares him a faintly disapproving glance, tossing one package on his chest. “Here. Stop telling me this stuff.” He tears open the condom package with a quick confidence that makes Mizutani’s insides clench.

“Make me.”

Abe raises an eyebrow. “I believe the phrase here is, ‘don’t write cheques your ass can’t cash’.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“And you’re one to talk.”

He shrugs it off with a grin and fumbles his way into getting some lube on his fingers, then rubs the tips of two against Abe’s hole, pushing in eagerly. He gasps at the heat of it, at the way Abe twitches and pants out a single heavy breath. Abe drags his fingertips over his dick, light, light sensation and then the feel of the condom, Abe’s grip firmer as he rolls it down.

Abe rises up. “Slide down. Don’t wanna take my pants off.”

Mizutani wriggles down on the seat, an awed hush falling over him as he watches Abe.

“You might want to take your fingers out.”

Mizutani does quickly, but doesn’t move his hands far, cupping Abe’s ass as he bends forward to grip Mizutani’s dick. Mizutani takes a deep breath, letting it out in a slow, shuddering stream as if he were the one taking a dick up his ass. Abe is silent, gorgeous in the shadow and the faint moonlight cutting across from his shoulder to his hip and Mizutani releases a quiet cry into the thick air.

Abe slides down and up on his dick, a little deeper each time, with a steadiness that could drive a man crazy. His palms splay on Mizutani’s chest, his mouth fallen open, and his eyes, his dark eyes fixed on Mizutani’s face, almost like it matters more to him than the sensations themselves. His jeans dig into Mizutani’s flesh above his hipbones and there’s not enough room for their legs and he doesn’t give a damn because Abe’s ass is flush against his thighs and tight around his cock.

He pushes up the front of Abe’s shirt, gaze raking up his body.“You look...you look so…” His eyes are drawn back to the gentle greyscale of his stomach, his dick angling up towards it in a way that just begs for someone to grab it.

Abe grunts unreadably, cupping his face with both hands and curving in for a kiss. His hips jerk down, squashing against Mizutani and pushing him deeper for a second before relaxing. Over and over, not quick just yet and barely enough movement to stimulate but that, that in itself is leaving Mizutani with his name a moaned prayer on his lips and his hand wrapping eagerly around Abe’s dick. It only takes him a minute before he’s rocking into the movement, feet pushing hard against the footwell with each tight roll of his hips. Abe hums appreciation into his mouth, his tongue pushing between Mizutani’s lips with a gorgeously insistent fire.

Abe cards one hand through his hair, shifting the other to clutch the back of the seat over Mizutani’s shoulder, then up, his forearm braced against the roof of the car. Mizutani strokes the topography of his chest and arm, loving it, loving the urgency of it, loving the sweat he can feel soaking through the shirt already and Abe’s soft, uneven pants when he breaks the kiss. Mizutani looks down, watching his dick slide in his fist and the play of his abs with fuzzy adoration.

Abe thumps his forehead against Mizutani’s hair in what he can only assume is affection. He rises up, up, until Mizutani wonders if he’ll pull off entirely, but no, no, it feels like an invitation, a demand. He grabs Abe’s hips and fucks up into him quickly, ears full of the slap of their bodies together and the wet sound of his dick in Abe’s ass and the bare groan Abe releases against his temple. Mizutani kisses him, his jaw, his neck, anything he can reach, his hands pushing up Abe’s sides in absent urgency and then dragging back down to pull him into another thrust.

He  _ is _ getting a cramp in one leg and it’s too hot and Abe won’t goddamn  _ kiss  _ him so when it comes down to it, he holds his breath for a second and then releases it again Abe’s skin with a shattered gasp as pleasure courses through him and pulses out with each last convulsive jerk of his hips.

Abe rides him through it, lips crushed against his temple and one arm curled powerfully around his shoulders, pulling him up off the seat and close. Mizutani pushes his palms up his back, nosing against him more and more insistently.

“Kiss me?”

Almost like it simply hadn’t occurred to him, he tips his head down to meet Mizutani’s ebbing hunger. Which just reminds him of the dick catching against his shirt, heat against his stomach and the agitated movement of Abe’s hips. With a heavy noise, he fumbles a hand down between them, gasping against Abe’s mouth when he finds his erection.

With a guttural noise, Abe bats his hand away, replacing it with his own.

Mizutani tips his head back. “Hey!” He squints at Abe in the dim light. “…Was I doing a bad job, or something?”

Abe blinks at him. “No.”

“So get outta here.” Mizutani pulls Abe’s hand away, pressing it against his waist while he starts jacking him off again. He kisses his jaw, quick, quick, before falling back on the seat so he can properly admire Abe, curved forward and his mouth open and shirt slipped back down but sticking to him beautifully. Mizutani licks his lips. “You want me to finger you more?”

Abe just gives him a bland glare that Mizutani’s pretty sure is a cover for embarrassment.

“‘Cause I wanna.” He pets Abe’s thigh, touch heavy as he gets close to his hip, then wedges his hand past Abe’s jeans and his own lazily moving fist to drag fingers underneath, push against his perineum.

“Fill your boots.”

Mizutani pulls a face. “Could you  _ try _ and sound a little more enthusiastic?”

In lieu of an answer, Abe dips forward, gripping his chin and kissing him in a way that leaves no doubt.

Mizutani fumbles a hold on the condom as his dick slips out the rest of the way. Eagerly, he pushes two fingers in, pulling back slightly before curling them back in. Abe gasps softly against his lips, and it makes Mizutani wonder just what it would take to open his throat. He catches Abe’s lower lip between his own, his own breath coming hard.

_ I’m gonna find that out. _

The corners of his mouth quirk up. So much that they know of each other already, but so much more to be learned, to be drunk in. To love, perhaps, if Abe would ever allow such a mellifluous word near himself. But Mizutani thinks, he thinks, watching Abe’s face, his eyes closed in the privacy of pleasure, he thinks maybe he would. Mizutani hums a happy noise, kissing him on the edge of his mouth.

He loves, loves it like this, loves feeling an orgasm roll through someone’s body, loves the squeeze of Abe’s muscles around his fingers and the way his hips jerk back like Mizutani’s touch on his dick is already too much, loves Abe’s arm denting the headrest beside his head and his fingers tangled in his hair, loves even the non-sound Abe makes and the ways he rubs his scratchy cheek against Mizutani’s as he comes down.

“Sh....shit…” he pants softly, still slowly working his fingers in and out.

Abe huffs out something between exasperation and laughter. “This is probably the worst idea I’ve ever let you talk me into.” He starts to lean back, glancing down at the mess of their clothes.

“You ungrateful jackass.” Mizutani pulls him back down, kissing him softly. “I got plenty more terrible ideas where that came from.”

They clean up as best they can and fall asleep facing each other across the divide, the smell of sex and summer thick between them.

* * *

 

Abe wakes up to the dubiously pleasant sensation of someone affectionate nuzzling him in the kidneys.

He grumbles, hugging his pillow for a moment before twisting to look over his shoulder (and dislodging Mizutani).

“Why do I let you stay the night again?”

Unphased, Mizutani paws his way up to drape over Abe’s chest. “Because I’m cute?”

“Not when you have morning breath.”

“‘S why I’m not tryna kiss you. See? Very considerate boyfriend. Deserves a little forgiveness for being a terrible bedmate.”

Abe rolls his eyes with a sigh but still gathers him closer. Mizutani makes a smug little noise as if he’s won some argument, and Abe can concede in the privacy of his head that it  _ is _ cute. And he  _ does _ love this, despite all the irritation and inconvenience that seem to trail Mizutani like terrible ducklings. Loves the hand lazily stroking and squeezing his side, the tickle of hair against his neck--growing out again after he cut it short in the spring. Loves these hushed mornings and everything that follows, loves the muffled sound of Mizutani singing in the shower, loves getting dragged off on every harebrained quest.

Mizutani raises his head, folding his arms on Abe’s chest. “You’re thinking something mushy, aren’t you?”

Abe narrows his eyes, considering a retort. Instead, he grabs the back of Mizutani’s neck, pulling him into a kiss that turns into another. And another, sharp and sweet and Mizutani’s arms winding around his neck and wedged under the pillow and nothing and everything between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got another oneshot planned for these two at some point bc L just keeps on GIVEN ME IDEAS GDI


End file.
